


People

by timbrene



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Therapeutic Cooking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timbrene/pseuds/timbrene
Summary: In which Caleb grapples with his guilt, and Caduceus grapples with a cookbook.





	People

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer (which will become obvious): I have no idea how to cook.

It’s quiet in the tunnels. The light of their small campfire flickers at the edge of their little circle, where Caduceus sits alone with an array of pots and bowls and jars. In the corner, nearest the fire, Caleb pulls the blankets tighter around him.

He ought not to be alone with his thoughts - not now. But there is no avoiding them in the endless dark, not when Jester and Beauregard have drifted off already, and the others on their way. Better here, he supposes, than in an inn somewhere. At least here, he is not alone with Nott. Here, he can face away from the others and pretend not to notice the gulf of space and other bodies between the two of them on the ground.

His people.  _ Bren’s _ people. He cannot hide behind another picture of himself any longer. Not when his past claws its way out to hurt the ones he cares for. For all he knows, Nott’s husband is dead. For all he’s seen, Caleb halfway hopes that he is. And though his old compatriots may not have been the ones to take him, they were most certainly involved. The ones to get him into this mess, in the first place. If he had done something sooner, would this be different?

It doesn’t matter. He has not done a thing. Has run away at every turn, and let the Empire and its dogs lay the cards out where they wished as he hid instead of keeping these people safe. This is as much his fault as it is anyone else’s. His people were his responsibility, and he has ignored them too long. He should know better. He does know better.  _ Stupid. _

“Mr. Caleb?” says a quiet voice from a few feet away.

His head snaps to the side. He swallows the first response that leaps to mind.

“Ja, what?”

Almost excruciatingly slowly, Caduceus looks from him back down to the stew. He draws the ladle out and gives it a sniff.

“Are you busy?”

Caleb looks down incredulously at his own bedroll, then pointedly back to Caduceus.

“What do you want?”

“I’m just cooking up some rations for everybody,” Caduceus begins, and his usual roundabout way makes Caleb want to pull his hair out, tonight. “But see, the thing is, Jester gave me this cookbook, and I have to admit reading isn't really my strong point.”

Caleb waits for him to finish. Caduceus smiles back.

“And you want what?” he prompts at last.

“Oh, well,” Caduceus motions one large hand towards the cookbook propped up against the largest bowl. “I was hoping you could help me out with some of these words.”

Caleb squeezes his eyes shut. It’s difficult to deny this man anything, with his kind, easy way.

“Ja, okay.”

A warm, pleased smile spreads across Caduceus’s face like honey as Caleb peels the blankets off and crosses camp to meet him at the fire. He plops down unceremoniously and surveys the ingredients laid out on a cloth spread before them. Caduceus scoots over to give him room to see it all. There is the pot, bubbling over the fire. In front of it, six clay bowls of varying sizes hold various spices and mushrooms. The lot of them look barely touched.

“How far have you gotten already?”

Caduceus frowns down at the cookbook. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts one finger and points to step three of twelve. Caleb holds in the sigh.

“Okay, well, how are you managing it so far?”

Caduceus gives him a beaming smile, holding up the bowl to his nose. He takes a long, deep sniff, letting the steam curl over his face.

“Not well. This smells just awful.”

Caleb takes a long look at the book, committing the page to memory. Wordlessly, he leans over the pot and examines the contents. It looks as though he’s followed the instructions well enough so far. Though, perhaps, he may have skipped a step. An easy enough mistake to fix, at this point. Caleb points toward a bowl of fine, brown spice.

“Two spoons of that one,” he instructs. Caduceus obeys carefully, and before long Caleb can smell something earthy and warm.

The two of them follow the instructions together, step by step. Gradually, the slop in their pot begins to resemble the sketch on the page.

“Will this spoil by tomorrow?” Caleb asks, once they’re hovering comfortably around step seven.

Caduceus pats one of the empty jars from the ground. Four, Caleb notices. In the back of his mind, he wonders about the other three.

“These will keep it just fine.”

Caleb looks from the row of jars to the campfire, then to their sleeping companions.

“You know I think it would be more practical to prepare this in the morning,” he points out. “You ought to be using this time to sleep.”

“Well, sometimes it’s fun to get something nice that you’re not expecting,” Caduceus says. His brow wrinkles, and he reaches out to give an experimental stir to the pot. “I think everybody will be happy that we took the time to surprise them.”

Caduceus pulls the spoon from the pot, then studies the book for a moment. He reaches down to dip the spoon into the bowl of chopped mushrooms. The image of the page still clear in his mind, Caleb’s eyes flick back to the cookbook. This is too early to add the mushrooms, by several steps.

“ _ Bitte _ .”

He reaches across the pot. Gently, Caleb eases the spoon from Caduceus’s hand and dips it into the bowl of red, instead. He metes out the amount the recipe calls for, dropping it slowly into the pot above the fire. The concoction bubbles happily. Caleb lets out a satisfied breath, and settles back down to find Caduceus watching him contently. Caleb’s gaze flits away.

“Pass me that green bowl,” he says quickly.

As Caduceus leans to reach for it, Caleb catches a glimpse of something else on his other side. A row of three neatly-sealed jars, each filled with a stew identical to the one the two of them have just brewed. His eyes flicked up to Caduceus again, curious.

He could ask. He would get something resembling a straight answer, he’s sure. Caduceus hands the bowl over, and Caleb takes it without a word. He sets about crushing the contents into the pot.

The minutes pass by, and the two of them pass instructions and bowls back and forth, adding and stirring and waiting. When Caduceus asks about a word, Caleb clarifies, and each time he looks just as pleased as the last. Before he really notices, it’s done. Caleb holds the pot steady as Caduceus dips the jars one by one, then wipes them clean and seals them off.

“Thank you very much for all your help.” Caduceus leans down to take a long whiff from the last jar, then places the cap on and twists it shut. “I think this turned out just great.”

He places the jar beside the rest, and begins to place the emptied bowls in a neat stack in front of him. Caleb watches him work, weighing whether or not to bring it up.

“Ja, well, it seems like you did just fine on your own.”

At Caduceus’s questioning look, he gives a measured nod towards the three previously completed jars. Caduceus only gives him another one of those smiles. The kind that makes him think of a cat in a sunbeam.

“I may have exaggerated about how much help I needed to actually make the stew,” he admits. “Sorry about that. But I think it was better with company, don't you?”

Caleb stares back. This was a waste of his time, wholly. Time he could have spent reading, or learning, or puzzling out some master plan to fix his mistakes. But, he reminds himself, that is hardly what he was doing, before. And he hasn’t had one thought of Nott since the two of them sat down together. Nor of Trent, or the Academy, or any of it. He peers up at Caduceus, and thinks for a moment that there is more wisdom in that furry head than he lets on.

“Ja,” he says quietly. “It was,  _ danke _ .”

“That’s just great,” Caduceus says. “Why don’t you just let me know if you want to help out with the reading again? I could always use the help.”

They finish cleaning in silence he could almost call comfortable, and when the last of Caduceus’s containers are tucked safely away, Caleb douses the fire. In the low light, he can barely see the outlines of the others sleeping nearby. The two of them take their places at the edge, near where the fire had been, and begin to settle down again. Caleb pulls the blankets tight around him, and knows he will fall asleep now easier than he would have.

“Mr. Caleb?”

He rolls over in his bedroll, just enough that Caduceus can see him listening. He’s quieter now, as though the sound of the campfire had drowned them out before.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying so,” he continues in that slow, honest way of his, “but from where I’m standing, I think your people are already right here with you.”

Caleb looks at him for a long moment. All calm and sincerity, as though he can see the world from a distance.

_ His people _ . Caleb rolls over onto his back without a word. In his mind, he sees Jester smiling as she scribbles something obscene into one of his books. He sees Fjord standing braced against the brisk sea wind, and Beau beside him with her fierce grin and her staff poised to defend her crew from what may come. He sees Yasha in her quiet and her fury.

He sees Nott, distraught and furious, flinging blame at him to see if it sticks. But as his stomach begins to tighten, through that same haze he sees Caduceus above him, stable arms carrying him from the basement as though the world was not shifting beneath their feet. A rumbling, deep voice that anchored him as best an anchor could.

His people.  _ Caleb’s _ people. Lying together in the dark uncertainty, on their way to save a good man.

“Wake me in the morning, please,” he mumbles half into his blanket, looking up toward the sky somewhere far above them. “I would like to help with breakfast, if I won’t get in the way.”

He can hear the smile in Caduceus’s voice, and tries his best to feel like he deserves it.

“That sounds nice.”


End file.
